


flourish in full sun

by Meridas



Series: warm, unalone (come settle down) [6]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Domestic, Gardens & Gardening, Gen, Genderfluid Mollymauk Tealeaf, Other, Queerplatonic Molly/Yasha, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slice of Life, pre-Yasha/Zuala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/pseuds/Meridas
Summary: Yasha finds a new hobby in her new home, now that she can stand still long enough for flowers to grow.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha
Series: warm, unalone (come settle down) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607398
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	flourish in full sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aguefortalumna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguefortalumna/gifts).



> Thank you Gail for the sweet circus kids prompt!! It's not precisely about tattoos but I hope you like it!

Yasha’s memories of her life before she joined the carnival hardly have any color in them. She prefers not to linger on those days, lately—there has been enough joy in her life since she found the carnival, since she met Mollymauk, that she does not find herself quite so mired in her past anymore. Sometimes she chases storms and the call of her fledgeling faith, sometimes she chases Molly around the city in search of new experiences—but either way, she runs _to_ something now, no longer running scared. 

And sometimes, now, she gets days like these. Afternoons that are full of rest, and the sounds of the city pleasantly present yet distant from where she kneels on the roof of the apartment building, with fresh dirt beneath her nails and the sun shining down on her face. 

The roof isn’t a popular spot, really—as far as Yasha knows, only she and Molly really frequent it. That suits her just fine, because it gives her times like this, when she has hit her limit on talking to strangers for the day and interacting with people sounds more exhausting than fulfilling. Days like this she can send Molly a quick text letting him know she will be on the roof, and she can climb up to tend to a small square of dirt and plants that she carried here herself, that she built with her own hands and took care of until it flourished. 

She and Molly have been in Zadash now longer than they ever stayed anywhere with the carnival. There have been a lot of things to adapt to, living in one place like this. Some days, she knows, one or both of them feel like they could grab a bag and skip town and run until they’re breathless. But those are balanced out by days full of calm and contentment, and the two of them hold onto each other and muddle through. 

Yasha carefully snips a flower from the garden that she grew and places it in a vase at her side to bring back to their home. Her flowers are a riot of color now, late into the summer. From everything that she read, Yasha thinks she should have been more strict with trimming and pruning them—but she didn’t have the heart to cut her enthusiastic flowers back too much, and the summer in Zadash has been forgiving to them. Molly had encouraged her unrepentantly in buying the starts that she wanted, and the swell of simple happiness that fills her up when she sees the results of her summer tells her that he was right to. 

She planted snapdragons first, so that their soft velvety bells would have the perfect spot to greet her when she comes to check on them. They bloom a beautiful deep red just as she had hoped, a near-perfect match to the ones that spill down Molly’s right arm. Yasha remembers their early days at the carnival, when Molly had more trouble speaking and he covered up his skin so that no one would see the strange red marks that he still bears. The two of them used to spend hours with their heads leaned together, looking through old gardening magazines because those were the most palatable of the free reading material the circus could pick up from town to town. She remembers when Molly decided to cover himself in art, to paint over the shades of his murky past with vibrant tattoos, when she suggested that snapdragons fit him to a tee and he smiled so brightly when the first bouquet finally bloomed across his skin. 

Yasha smiles to herself as she cuts a few stems of her snapdragons. She can bring them inside, and drop a handful on Molly’s head when he isn’t looking, and he’ll sputter and then laugh and help her gather them up again to put them in water. There are dahlias that she planted for Molly, too, particularly the one called _Carnival_ that sends up flowers covered in streaks and splashes purple. She takes another of those, as well, to bring inside and put on the windowsill in their kitchen. 

She doesn’t cut any of the sunflowers that have grown to exuberant height at the very back of her garden box. Those she likes to sit and look at, and if she feels her face grow warm as she does then there’s no one else on the roof to see her. The other flowers don’t judge her for planting these with a beautiful girl in mind. Molly doesn’t judge her, either, but he _will_ nudge her gently with his elbow and offer to help her get a date as if he isn’t just as much a disaster as she is. Some day Yasha will get up the courage she needs to gather her sunflowers into a bouquet, and give them to Zuala, and hope for the best. But not now.

There are forget-me-nots in her garden, as well, that make a patchwork carpet beneath the taller stems. Yasha has carefully not labeled them in her mind, but a part of her feels that those might be the ones she planted for herself. 

As the sunlight moves behind her and the horizon begins to deepen into evening, Yasha stands and gathers up her tools and her cut flowers. She finds herself smiling, and thinking of the ideas she has for next year. Her idle plans for a second box—one to fill with herbs, perhaps a tomato plant, some lavender at Molly’s request—are no longer quite as idle as they used to be. She and Molly have tentatively put down roots here in Zadash, as much as she might snort quietly over the pun in her own mind. It’s a strange feeling, to have such a warm sense of _safety_ settle over one place after spending so long knowing that safety meant moving on. They’ve both made adjustments to it. They’ve both talked it over, more than once, and each time they come back to the conclusion that they want to stay. 

“Hey, you,” Molly greets her as she nudges the front door open, carefully balancing her jar of flowers and her little caddy of tools. 

“Hello, Molly.” She takes one stem of snapdragons carefully from her bunch, and tucks it behind Molly’s ear. He lifts a hand up to touch the petals, then gives her that bright, toothy smile. 

“Thanks, Yash. Did you have a good afternoon?” 

“You know,” Yasha smiles, setting her flowers down and gazing at the splashes of color that she brought home, “I really did.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Molly dahlias are real, look up Hulin's Carnival dahlias if you're curious! They've very cute with lots of purple freckles.


End file.
